"They can't take this, at least," sighed McLaurin as they retreated from
Luna.
"I didn't think they could--right away. I'm wondering though if they
haven't something we haven't seen yet. Besides which--give them time,
give them time."
"Well, give us time, too," snapped McLaurin. "How are you coming?"
Buck smiled. "I'm sure I don't know. I have a machine but I haven't the
slightest idea of whether or not it's any good."
"Why not?"
"I can destroy--I hope--but I can't build up their ray. I can't test the
machine because I haven't their ray to test it against."
"What can we do to test it?"
"The only thing I can see is to call for volunteers--and send out a
six-man cruiser. If the ship's too small, they may not destroy it with
the big crumbler rays. If it's too large--and the machine didn't
work--we'd lose too much."
Twelve hours later, the IP men at the Lunar Bank fort were lined up.
McLaurin stepped up on the platform, and addressed the men briefly, told
them what was needed. Six volunteers were selected by a process of
elimination, those who were married, had dependents, officers, and
others were refused. Finally, six men of the IP were chosen, neither
rookies nor veterans, six average men. And one average six-man cruiser,
one hundred and eleven feet long, twenty-two in diameter. It was the
T-208, a sister ship of the T-247, the first ship to be destroyed.
The T-208 started out from Luna, and with full acceleration, sped out
toward Phobos. Slowly she circled the satellite, while distant scouts
kept her under view. Lazily, the Miran patrol on Phobos watched the
T-208, indifferent to her. The T-208 dove suddenly, after five fruitless
circles of the tiny world, and with her four-foot UV beam flaming,
stabbed angrily at a flight of Miran scouts berthed in the very shadow
of a great battle cruiser, one of the interstellar ships stationed here
on Phobos.
Four of the little ships slumped in incandescence. Angrily the terrific
sword of energy slashed at the frail little scouts.
Angrily the Miran interstellar ship shot herself abruptly into action
against this insolent cruiser. The cruiser launched a flight of the
mercury-torpedoes. Flashing, burning, ultra-violet energy flooded the
great ship, harmlessly, for the men were, as usual, protected. The Miran
answered with the neutron beam, atomic and gamma bombs--and the crumbler
ray.
Gently, softly a halo of shimmering-violet luminescence built up about
the T-208. The UV beam continued to flare, wavering slightly in its
aim--then fell way off to one side. The T-208 staggered suddenly,
wandered from her course--whole, but uncontrolled. For the men within
the ship were dead.
Majestically the Miran swung along beside the dead ship, a great
magnetic tow-cable shot out toward it, to shy off at first, then slowly
to be adjusted, and take hold in the magnetic shield of the T-208. The
pilots of the watching scout-ships turned away. They knew what would
happen.
It did. Five--ten--twenty seconds passed. Then the "dead-man" took over
the ship--and the stored power in the atostor tanks blasted in a
terrible flame that shattered the metal hull to molecular fragments. The
interstellar cruiser shuddered, and rolled half over at the blasting
pressure. Leaking seams appeared in her plates.
The scouts raced back to Luna as the Miran settled heavily, and a trifle
clumsily to Phobos. Miran radio-beams were forcing their way out toward
the Miran station on Europa, to be relayed to the headquarters on
Jupiter, just as Solarian radio beams were thrusting through space
toward Luna. Said the Miran messages: "Their ships no longer crumble."
Said the Solarian messages: "The ships no longer crumble--but the men
die."
* * * * *
His deep eyes burning tensely, Buck Kendall heard the messages coming
in, and rose slowly from his seat to pace the floor. "I think I know
why," he said at last. "I should have thought. For that too can be
prevented."
"Why--what in the name of the Planets?" asked McLaurin. "It didn't kill
the men in the forts--why does it kill the men in the ships, when the
ships are protected?"
"The protection kills them."
"But--but they had the protective oscillations on all the way out!"
protested the Commander.
"Think how it works though. Think, man. The enemy's field is an
electric-field oscillation. We combat it by setting up a similar
oscillating field in the metal of the hull ourselves. Because the metal
conducts the strains, they meet, and oppose. It is not a shield--a
shield is impossible, as I have said, because of energy concentration
factors. If their beam carried a hundred thousand horsepower in a
ten-foot square beam, in every ten square feet of our shield, we'd have
to have one hundred thousand horsepower. In other words, hundreds of
times as much energy would be needed in the shield, as they used in
their beam. We can't afford that. We had to let the beams oppose our
oscillations in the metal, where, because the metal conducts, they meet
on an equal basis. But--when two oscillations of slightly different
frequency meet, what is the result?"
"In this case, a heterodyne frequency of a lower, and harmless
frequency."
"So I thought. I was partly right. It does _not_ harm the metal. But it
kills the men. It is super-sonic. The terrible, shrill sounds destroy
the cells of the men's bodies. Then, when their dead hands release the
controls, the automatic switches blow up the ship."
"God! We stop one menace--and it is like the Hydra. For every head we
lop off, two spring up."
"Ah--but they are lesser heads. Look, what is the fundamental difference
between sound and light?"
"One is a vibration of matter and the--ah--eliminate the material
contact!"
"Exactly! All we need to do is to let the ships operate airless, the men
in space suits. Then the air cannot carry the sounds to them. And by
putting special damping materials in their suits, we can stop the
vibrations that would reach them through their feet and hands. Another
six-man ship must go out--but this ship will come back!"
And with the order for another experimental ship, went the orders for
commercial supplies of this new apparatus. Every IP ship must be
equipped to resist it.
Buck Kendall sailed on the six-man scout that went out this time. Again
they swooped once at Phobos, again Miran scout-ships crumbled under the
attack of the vicious UV beams. The Mirans were not waiting
contemptuously this time. In an instant the great interstellar ship rose
from its berth, its weapons working angrily. The crumbler ray snapped
out at the T-253.
Kendall stared into the periscope visor intently. Clumsily his padded
hands worked at the specially adapted controls. The soft hiss of the
oxygen release into his suit disturbed him slightly. The radio-phones in
his helmet carried all the conversations in the ship to him with equal
clarity. He watched as the great ship angled angrily up--
His vision was momentarily obscured by a violet glow that built up and
reached out gently from every point of metal in the ship. The instant
Kendall saw that, the T-253 was fleeing under his hands. The test had
been made. Now all he desired was safety again. The ion-rockets flared
recklessly as, crushed under an acceleration of four Earth-gravities, he
sank heavily into his seat. Grimly the Miran ship was pursuing them,
easily keeping up with the fleeing midget. The crumbler became more
intense, the violet glow more vivid.